


By Gones

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Knife Play, Post Series, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knife, a gun, a rope, a hammer: just tools. It's the one handling them you need to pay attention to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Gones

**Author's Note:**

> Far different from my usual style. You've been warned.   
> TamingtheMuse Prompt: 130 administer  
> A/N/warnings: under the influence of cold meds, one of my flist requestd Faith, Xander, Knife play. My muse added dubious consent and breath play. It's dark, folks. Thanks to Bigsciencybrain for a fly-by beta and hand holding.

She'd stormed out of the meeting up to her assigned room. There was no fucking way things were going down as the others planned it. She was about to close the door – not slam it, she'd learned that the hard way—when it was pushed open by a broad pair of shoulders. By her supposed partner.

"So what we have here--"

"is a failure of communicate?" Faith interjected. She'd expected at least a snort. Harris had always been quoting movies. The glare she could handle. It was his silence that freaked her out. To compensate she moved further into the room. Good, her bags had been put on the dresser. She also kept track of his movements. Harris without the babble. How the hell had that become a threat worth noting? He wasn't the same guy as she'd known in Sunnydale. The African sun had burned away the soft edges, leaving behind what?

"Tell me how Australia's been working for you." It wasn't an invitation. She turned to see that Harris was standing near the door. Blocking the closed door. Faith shook to clear her head. She'd had him. She'd seen him in action. Sure not a bad guy near a fight, but hell she could take him down and they both knew it.

But he wasn't acting like he did.

"I'm waiting." He pinned her with his eye. Not underestimating her, but not backing down.

"Started fine, but then." She shrugged and began to inspect the room in the council house. Desk, chair, dresser, bookshelf, bed – a twin. There was no noise behind her. Harris's stillness was beginning to creep her out.

He slipped into a more relaxed, but she noted out of the corner of her vision, still a fight ready, stance. His tone almost sounded like the old days. "I'd warned them against pairing you with Robin."

"Hey my choice!"Second senior slayer had some perks.

"And you'd really respect someone who'd roll over for you."

"You did." Okay. Hadn't expected that to come out. They'd both ignored that little rumble in the jungle; not talking about it, ever. Not that he'd been memorable. But normally she didn't have to worry about fall out. Normally she wasn't around come morning. Maybe that's why her and Robin never clicked. Or clicked too much like a gun out of ammo.

"That was then." Again with the mild tone. Not a Harris thing at all. He was all jokes and largeness. But even his clothes had calmed down from the eye searing Hawaiians he'd worn back in the day. Back in the 'dale.

"Heard from Willow that you've learned to control yourself. That time in the slammer was, educational." He hadn't moved. Why did he sound so much closer? "Could be right. You broke out easily enough."

"That was needed. Angel needed my help."

"Still not a fan. But, fine. Self control, check. There's another thing we need to work on."

"We?" She'd be talking to Rupes about this. There was no way she'd be paired with Harris. She didn't need a Watcher.

"We." He pulled something from a bag at his feet. A bag she hadn't noticed. And she was better than that. Had to be in this gig.

"So you trust yourself. Now you have to learn to trust me."

"And why would I do that?" she almost spat out. She kept him in her peripheral vision. The room was too small. Oz was good for that. Lots of space; not hemmed in like England. Even the damp air felt too close here.

"We've stuck with each other. Since I don't want to lose another slayer." Oh there was a story there. A big one. "You're going to sit."

"Sit, Ubo, Sit? I don't think so."

"This is about trust. If you don't trust me, we might as well quit now."

She spun to face him. "Isn't the question, do you trust me?" He had reason not to, and the fact that he was rubbing his neck meant he knew it too.

"One question at a time. Sit."

The edge of command had her in the wooden desk chair before she'd realized it. That was odd, she never took orders. Not since her first Watcher. Ask anyone.

Suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, threading rope through the chair's arms and around her wrist. "Harris, what the fuck?"

"This is about trust. Notice I'm using one strand; you could get out of it, couldn't you? Unless Buffy's stronger?" He was goading her, while asking her to stay tied down. Who was this Harris?

"Whatever." Didn't stop her from flexing to test the knots. Knots that didn't move. "Hey why are my palms up, not the usual position."

"And what about us is usual?" He was sitting on the bed now. The duffle bag resting beside him. "Usual is over-rated," he continued."Average. Normal." All the things B had longed for. Faith'd grown up less than that. Now she was more than. She knew which she liked better. Even with the responsibilities.

"You trust yourself. Fine and dandy. But I've seen watcher/slayer relationships. They work best if the slayer trusts the watcher. Without that you're a loose cannon. We can't afford that."

"Guessing that's not the you and me we. Fine. So I'm not a team player. Not the first time someone's said that." She made herself sit still. The ropes didn't bite into her skin, but they would if she fidgeted.

He kicked her chair back, until it was wedged against the desk. "Not replacing slayers. You're too smart to die. You're too ornery. But every time Buffy fell off the rails, it was because she tried it alone. To prevent that, you have to know you trust me. "

As power plays went, well, "Impressive Harris. So here I am tied at your mercy. Now what?" That's when he reached into the bag, and without looking pulled out a bush knife in a sheath. "Hey Dundee, thought I was the Ozzie tourist."

He didn't reply. Harris without banter? Taking the sheath in his left hand, he slowly withdrew the knife, watching her the whole time.

"Learned a lot in Africa. Guns might be common, but sometimes a knife is more useful." He broke the mood with a grin. "Can't cut fire wood with a gun."

So it wasn't a pod person. She'd begun to worry.

"Sweet knife."

"So not what you should be thinking on right now." Although she noticed that he was twisting the blade, admiring its angles. "A knife, a gun, a rope, a hammer: just tools. It's the one handling them you need to pay attention to."

Not much to say to that. She stared at him. Sitting there in a white button down and chinos on a floral bedspread. If you skipped the eye patch, he looked like any suburban guy the world over. Well the eye patch and the fact he was holding a wicked edged knife. One of these things is not like the others. She felt her heart speed up, fight or, well, not flight and definitely not fuck. No do-overs. Not for them. What was Harris playing at?

He dropped the sheath and used his left hand to push off the bed. "I'm not old school. Really not school-y at all, but there's a division between watcher and slayer. Not hard and fast. You're smart. You've seen things I haven't and know things I don't. Fine. But you've got to give me the same consideration." He approached her chair and tugged it forward. Xander placed the flat of the blade on her right wrist, and moved to whisper into her ear. "You've used me. You've hurt me. You've hurt my friends." This last was emphasized with the flat of the blade pushing into her flesh. "And now I'm going to have your back."

He moved behind her, encircling her, passing the knife from one hand to the other. Warm air hissed past her other ear. She fought the impulse to move. The now blood-warm blade rested against her left forearm. "Good. You have self control." The blade moved perpendicular to her arm. The edge just resting on her skin, not even indenting it. She couldn't pull her eyes away from where it sat, waiting.

"But that's not trust." The blade twisted, dull edge down, pressing into her muscles. It had turned too fast for even her vision to catch. Who was this?

"Don't worry." And when has that ever been a productive phrase? "I'm not here to administer punishment. Although I could." The words bound her tighter than the ropes. She couldn't stop forming fists. "You're still tense."

"No shit, Sherlock. I'm tied up with a knife on me." Those words battered against her teeth, but she held them back. This wasn't a discussion. Even she could pick up on that. Not a dynamic she was used to. Oh she'd done rope play before. She'd always been the one tying the knots.

He almost slid in front of the chair now. "Trust, that's something else entirely." She tried to follow his conversation, but the knife tip began to move up her arm, slipping between the hairs that were standing on end. "You know your weapons. You know what this could do to a jugular. Hear that's even faster to bleed out than a gut wound." The knife in his hand wasn't the only one he was twisting. It was like Sunnyd's greatest hits—if that meant a high light reel of her mistakes. "But that's who you were." He moved back, taking the knife with him.

Resting on the bed, he stared at her. Xander gently tossed the knife from hand to hand, looking comfortable either way. He just looked at her. Faith tried to stare back, but there's too much history being brought into play. None of it looking good on her. She stared over his right shoulder, looking at the bookcase.

Suddenly the knife is back. Not her arms, its tip pushing through her tank top, resting on scar tissue that will never heal. His hand is covering her right wrist, warm skin battling with the icy sensation of the blade. "Trust that I get you." The blade skates up her left side. "That my info's good." It dips beneath her breast, following the band of her bra. "That I don't want you dead."

She's trying to control her breathing because, jesus, a deep breath now might lead to impaling. But her heart, that had calmed down, was now thumping like that stampede of kangaroos she saw being chased by a K'uwla demon. He was in her space, in her face and all her muscles where strung like guitar strings ready to snap.

The knife moved up between her breasts to skim her clavicle, left then right. "Deep breath, Faith. Relax." Like that was going to happen. He laid the flat of the blade against her neck and pushed against her airway. "I've thought about this." The pressure increased. She had to raise her chin to avoid the knife's edge. "About seeing how you liked asphyxiation." Her chest was tight as she couldn't inhale. "Is it turning you on?" Like she had time to be horny when she was fighting to breathe. "No? Didn't do much for me either." The pressure was released. The knife was gone. Her head fell forward as she gulped the air, almost gagging on it.

Finally filling her lungs enough, she choked out "What the fuck!"

"Notice it's just you and me. No one else intervening." Angel. He was bringing Angel into this? "If I wanted revenge, I could have taken it." Xander moved his right hand, the knife hand, out to the side. He dropped the knife. She heard it thump against the thin carpet. He brought his hand to cover her other wrist. "I don't." The warmth of his hands rubbed circles into her forearms before sliding back to the ropes. "I needed to make that clear and, well, you've always struck me as more of an action not words type." He was fiddling with the left knot. "You need to trust I won't pull anything." He slowly massaged the slightly abraded skin then slowly set her hand back on the chair's arm. He moved to her other arm. "This is a new start. Wipe the slate." The ropes fell from her right side and again he gave it and her hand a gentle massage. His fingers interwove with hers, working out the tension that had coiled in every muscle. "If we're a team, we've got to trust. I know you can break me. Now you know what I can do." That was said so fucking calmly, like it was merely a weather report. "Now we just trust each other not to."

She looked up, face to face with this stranger she thought she knew. Or maybe she did. He was right, he'd stopped. Fucking bizarre way to show by-gones were by-gones. But they were both a little fucked up. Maybe he was right. "Even now?" she asked.

Xander's lips twitched. "Even stevens. So, partners?" He held out his hand to shake.

This was one of the most twisted things she'd ever done. Maybe it would work. She shook his hand. "Partners."


End file.
